


A Moment of Pride

by DardalionWrites



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, Confessions, Dominance, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forgiveness, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regret, Rough Sex, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21034514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DardalionWrites/pseuds/DardalionWrites
Summary: Weiss Schnee is allowed to continue on to Beacon and become a huntress but on the condition that she marries a young businessman Jacques chooses for her. Forced into a marriage she doesn't want, she determines to do everything in her power to make her would-be husband suffer, never quite realising that his position isn't so different from her own. Sometimes we get angry, and sometimes we focus that on people who don't deserve it. When bridges are burned, however, can they ever be rebuilt? Or can a single mistake doom a relationship forever?A tale of pride, anger and facing up to your actions.





	A Moment of Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Idea by Silent

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Though she may have sounded calm to any who didn’t know her, Weiss’ voice dripped venom as she stood before her father, clutching the edge of his desk as though she wished to flip it up and crush him. Growing up with her unloving father had put her through much but even she hadn’t thought he would be capable of this.

“You’re asking me to marry someone I don’t even know. This is sick! What is he, some forty year old man, fat and unhealthy, but useful to you in some way? Am I being thrown to the wolves to better our bottom line?”

“He’s eighteen, actually.” Jacques Schnee met her gaze with one just as firm. “A year older than you. Handsome and well-spoken. He is the son of old business partners, yes, but not any we need favours from. He is well regarded and well liked, especially for his charitable endeavours toward faunus.”

“He sounds lovely,” she said sarcastically. “And I assume I’m being wedded to him to improve the image of the SDC. Is that the case?”

“Partly. I will not be around forever, Weiss, and Winter has shown no desire to take over.”

“What am I?” Weiss howled. “Chopped liver?”

“No. You are a huntress. Or you wish to be.” Jacques leaned his hands on the desk. “How do you expect to run the SDC while you’re off fighting Grimm in some far-flung corner of civilisation? You can’t. Someone will need to stay and make decisions in your absence, and I’d prefer that be someone tied to the SDC.”

Weiss hissed. “The SDC is _my_ birth right.”

“How remarkably selfish of you.”

“You don’t get to say that!” Weiss yelled. “You only married into the name.”

“And you were only born as a result of that marriage. The SDC was on the verge of collapse when I took over, and I singlehandedly rescued it. I, at least, earned my position. You, Weiss, were born into it, so keep your pithy comments to yourself. You only live as well as you do because of me, and while you might rail against me, you should keep in mind that I’m still allowing you to attend Beacon. I could disown you in favour of Whitley. Certainly, he’s told me enough times to do so.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Because Whitley is not fit to run the company.”

“And I’m not either?”

“You are,” he said, “You have a cool mind and a strong will. However, you choose not to. You cannot be both a huntress and CEO. It simply isn’t possible. There will be times when decisions must be made, and you will be on the other side of the world in a life or death battle. The SDC will be left in your name, Weiss, but while you are out being a huntress, for however long you decide to be, your husband will run the company. It will still belong to you. He will only be a caretaker.”

While that mollified her a little it didn’t change the fact she was being married against her will, and to someone she hadn’t even met! Arranged marriages were the horror stories best reserved for fiction, not something parents put their children through in today’s age. Weiss told him so, slamming a hand down on his desk as she did.

“You’d be surprised, Weiss. It happens more often than you think; I faced the same when I was wed to your mother and I was no less enthused about it. Your grandfather was adamant, however. I could only lead if I was a Schnee.”

“And we all saw how that ended.”

“Yes.” Jacques let out a hefty sigh. “Let us stand as an example to you, Weiss. Love is not like the fairy tales. A person can come to love anyone if they give them a chance. Your mother was like yourself, railing against me at every step. I _tried_ to earn her love, Weiss. I tried to respect her, even as she ignored her daughters and chose not to raise them. Even as she gave herself in to drink and ignored the world around her, all to escape me.”

“Gee,” Weiss said. “I wonder why. Maybe you should learn from what happened to you!”

“And maybe you should learn from your mother,” he said. “You may find yourself against the idea of marriage at such a young age. That much I can understand. But give this boy a chance and you may find yourself pleasantly surprised.”

“I doubt it…”

“Listen to me, Weiss. Don’t let a moment of pride ruin what might otherwise be a loving relationship.”

A moment of pride? How insulting. This was her freedom, her life, they were talking about, and he acted like her defiance was nothing more than petulance. It didn’t matter what this man was like. It didn’t matter what he had done, what his dreams were and how nice he acted.

Weiss hated him. She had already decided.

* * *

The ceremony passed in a blur. It wasn’t just the blur of her paying little attention, though that was a part of it. The white wine she sipped throughout the night helped. In the changing room where they applied her makeup, she downed a glass. “It’s my first,” she told the woman attending her.

In the venue she took another under the eyes of her father. “It’s my first,” she told him.

Her husband-to-be offered her another later, which she took – and then a fourth for the toasts and a fifth before their dance, to calm her nerves. She wasn’t sure how many more there were that she snuck while others celebrated and speeches flowed, only that she busied herself in taking drinks whenever the stress became too much. No one noticed. All they ever commented on was how she looked.

She was beautiful, apparently. Everyone said so. _He_ said so as well. She blanked out at his name and introduction and refused to speak with him except where she was absolutely required to. All of that was a haze for the most part and she got by on empty smiles.

He was handsome and well-dressed. Tall but not obscenely so, with black hair and the lightest dusting of facial hair, neatly trimmed. His brown eyes were soft and kind, deep and rich in a way that had her gritting her teeth. He greeted her with the utmost respect and apologised for not being able to meet her before. He promised her he would make it up, that they would get to know one another. He promised things would be better.

She hated him.

Her soon-to-be-husband also spoke of how much good they could do. He wanted to improve faunus conditions within the SDC, stating that increased profits now weren’t worth the losses, both to reputation and the families of those affected. He had initiatives in mind, some of which she would secretly admit she liked the sound of.

But she would never tell him that, because she hated him.

When the time for speeches came around, she spoke her own – a short poem dictated and written ahead of time and that she had been made to memorise. It was meaningless drivel. On his turn, he spoke something much more tailored, in which he expressed his desires to become not just her husband, but a friend and confidante that she could come to trust. He smiled at her so earnestly as he said it, looking for her reaction.

Why did he have to sound like that? She hated him. Hated him, hated him, hated him.

“I do,” Weiss said out loud, screaming inside her head as the one wedding them turned to _him_ – her husband – and spoke the same words, asking if he would take her as his wife, love and protect her, cherish her always.

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. He looked nervous, she noticed. Maybe even afraid himself.

“I do,” he said.

For that, she hated him.

* * *

They were alone.

The venue they’d been married in was a well-off hotel and they’d been granted the bridal suite as expected. Her father wished her well, along with the parents of her groom. Her husband now. They had been ecstatic, and she’d smiled as she was expected to, brittle and glasslike, accepting their praise as she followed her husband out the wedding, leaving the others to the reception as she and he retreated to consummate their marriage. The elevator ride was stilted. The walk to the room silent. He entered, released her and tugged off his bowtie.

“That was a little intense.” He had a soft and gentle voice that sounded like it was used to laughter. Not at all like her father’s. He drew off his tuxedo jacket and laid it over the back of a chair almost haphazardly. “Not how I expected to spend the day.” He smiled at her. “Or you, I imagine.”

Weiss remained silent. She pushed off her white heels and sat on the bed.

Her husband stared at her for a moment and then looked away. “I guess this is as good a moment as any for us to talk. It feels like we should have been allowed that before our marriage. This is all the wrong way around.”

That, she could agree with. But wouldn’t.

“I know this must be difficult for you. It’s the same for me. I didn’t really want to get married, especially not to someone I don’t even know.” He laughed. “Parents didn’t give me much of a choice.” He looked up suddenly and said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course. I just… It’s not what I expected. I hope you understand.” As her silence dragged on, he asked, “Do you understand?”

The wine she’d been guzzling through the ceremony was making her head spin. She wasn’t drunk enough to escape reality altogether; more was the pity. Her fingers fumbled her bodice a little, however. She tugged it open to catch her breath, then pulled off her tiara and set it down on the bedside table. She stood long enough to unhook her gown and let it fall around her, leaving her in naught but her white bodice, lingerie and long stockings. His eyes were locked to her body as she unhooked the bodice and let that fall as well, leaving her naked but for lingerie.

Weiss sat after, forcing her legs to part just a little. “We should consummate the marriage,” she whispered brokenly.

Her husband looked away. “Must we do that right now? Can we not talk a little first? I… I want to get to know you, Weiss. The real you. Not this facade you put on.”

“What’s the point? We’re already married.”

“Yes. This isn’t how I wanted it to be either.” He looked back, struggling to keep his attention on her face and not her naked body. She’d been given a makeover all over, with foundation from her toes to the tips of her ears. Her body was inhumanly smooth and soft. “I don’t want us to just be husband and wife, Weiss. I want us to be friends. Allies.”

He held out a hand.

“In truth, neither of us had a choice in this. I was told I would be marrying you just as I imagine you were. This isn’t what either of us wanted, but we can make it work. We can build something out of this.”

Weiss stared at his hand and felt something stir within her. He was so reasonable, so genial, and she wanted nothing more than to take it. To work and strive together, to find a middle ground that wasn’t quite so galling.

But to do so would be to prove her father right. To _accept_ this, if even for a moment.

She looked away. “Don’t bother. Just consummate this.”

She unclipped her bra and let it fall onto her thighs. The cool air brushed across her nipples, puffy and pink atop her small breasts. His eyes feasted on them; she could feel it. She brought her legs up, leaning back on her behind as she swept her knickers down and over her ankles. They joined the rest of her bridal ensemble on the floor. It was the first time she’d ever been naked in front of a man and despite her hopes it would empower her, she felt nothing but vulnerable.

“Weiss,” he whispered, noticing. “You don’t want this. I can tell. We can work together.”

“Everyone expects us wed tonight,” she said, words slurring a little. “If they don’t see blood, they’ll be out for blood. Either you take me or I’ll find someone who will!”

“What are you-? Wait.” He looked at her closely. “Are you drunk?” He sighed. “How about we talk more in the morning? I’m sure things will make more sense then. I’ll take the couch and you can sleep in the be – what are you doing?”

Weiss already had the phone on the bedside table in hand. “Calling room service,” she said angrily, finger over the buttons. “I’m sure someone there would love to have a round with me. The famous Weiss Schnee, fit only to spread her legs for anyone her father tells her to.”

“What? No, wait!”

He rushed forward and took the phone, grappling with her for a few moments with one knee on the bed. She tried to pull it away. Had she been in the right mind, an untrained man would have never bested her, but she wasn’t. Angry, tipsy and raging at everything, she was half the huntress she could have been. He wrestled it out her hands and tossed the receiver away, grasping both her wrists in one of his larger hands and pinning them to the bed above her. He was knelt over her, dominant and heaving, face red with exertion and just a little panic.

It was a terrifying moment, even past the haze of complication emotions running through her. This was a man kneeling over her, pinning her down, and she had only a pair of stockings to protect her. Her white hair was splayed out over the pillows, wild and untamed, having come lose as they fought for control.

Her first instinct was to scream and kick him off. That would only cause problems. Her father would find out and punish her. Everything would go wrong. Instead, she looked up into his soft brown eyes and leaned her head back, offering her throat.

“Do it,” she said. “Take me. My consent hardly matters.”

“That’s not true.” He released her hands and looked down on her, so hurt and upset that she imagined she could see tears in his eyes. Fake, of course. “It does matter, Weiss, especially to me. I don’t want this and neither do you. You’re not thinking straight.”

On the contrary, he was the one refusing to see the bigger picture. “You can quit with the games,” she hissed, taking hold of his lapel and pulling his shirt open. He had a clean and athletic chest. She hated him for it. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me. You’ve won. I’m yours. Here I am, naked and ready for you. Do what you want with me and I’ll play my part.” She sneered. “Like a good little wife.”

Go to Beacon. Become a huntress. Escape this for as long as she could. No one said how often she had to come home. Squirt one, maybe two, babies out and no one would complain. No one but her. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes.

A soft finger brushed one aside. “Weiss. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Anger boiled to the surface.

How dare he? How dare he!? To tell her not to do this, when _he_ was the one doing it to her. A distant and rational part of her mind whispered that he wasn’t the one to blame, that it was their parents, but she didn’t care. Her father wasn’t here. Her husband was. Weiss’ hand lashed out and caught his cheek with an almighty crack. He wasn’t a huntsman and had no aura; he was flung to the side and off her body.

Weiss rolled over, planting a knee on either side of his hips. Her face was red, flushed both with anger and alcohol. Far from clouding her mind, it brought sudden clarity.

“You want this,” she snapped. “Or is it the wealth of my family you want?”

“Weiss… please…”

He looked afraid. For a second, she wondered why, and her anger faded. She sat back, anger draining as common sense kicked back in and warned her she was about to do something she might regret. And then she felt it, his erection, hard against her bum, pushing up in his pants.

“Liar. I can feel you.” She ground her ass back into him and he groaned. “Nothing but a horny dog. Is that all I am to you, a piece of meat? Some _whore_ to be used and thrown away?”

“No!”

“Then explain this!” she shrieked.

“Y – You’re grinding into me.” His voice was tensed. “I can’t help it!”

“Is that the case.” Weiss closed her eyes and took a deep and calming breath. It didn’t have the effect she hoped it would. “So you’re saying this is my fault. I’m the cause.”

“No… That’s not what I meant…”

“No, it is,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m the problem here. Obviously. That’s all I ever am, a problem or a tool. Shame on me for making such a fine gentleman as yourself feel such things. I’m a harlot.”

“You’re naked!” he gasped. “You’re completely naked and straddling me!”

What did that matter? She hadn’t asked to be here _or_ married to him. If she had her way, she’d be in her room in her sleeping gown dreaming of Beacon and the freedom she’d have there. That was until he came and ruined it.

“Don’t lie,” she said, slurring. “I’m sick of all the lies.” She ignored his protests, his claims he wasn’t – his lies. Her fingers found his shirt and fumbled a button. It wouldn’t pop open and his struggling wasn’t helping. She growled and dug her fingers in, tearing them apart. Buttons popped and a loud _rip_ tore through the room.

His chest was bare. Shaved, probably. He’d expected this and taken care to accommodate her tastes. She ought to have felt grateful for that but all she could think was how he’d _known_ he would sleep with her. And of course he had. He was so hard against her that he must have been thinking about it all throughout the ceremony; undressing her with his eyes.

“Stop struggling,” she snapped, planting a hand down on his chest. She shifted forward until she was sat on his stomach and reached back. His bely buckle opened easily but she couldn’t get it off. Irritated, she left it there and unzipped his fly instead. Dark blue bulged up as his boxers peeked through, pushed by his erect penis.

“Weiss,” he begged. “Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight!”

“I’m thinking fine. You’re the one being an idiot. Isn’t this what you wanted? A tool to use? Either for pleasure or status, that’s all I am. Then use me. Or are you scared?” She pushed his boxers down and brought him out. He was long and thick and warm in her hand. It was ugly. She’d always known sexual organs were, but his was particularly ugly for the fact it was supposed to go inside her.

_I could break it,_ she thought. _A tragic little accident in the heat of passion._ Her grip tightened.

“Weiss.” His voice was choked and raw. “You’re hurting me.”

“You don’t know the meaning of that word.” Weiss adjusted herself and pushed back, keeping him pinned with one hand while aiming his erect penis at her entrance. “I’ve never even done this before,” she said. “But I know it’s going to hurt.”

“Then stop! Stop and we’ll work something out.”

Work what out? What was there to even work out? Her life wasn’t her own. Her choices weren’t her own. He’d stolen all that from her; him and her father. Gritting her teeth, she pushed back, tensing as his head pushed into her. She was dry. Dry and tight. Her lip trembled. Her eyes watered. He was talking but she silenced him by clamping her hand down over his mouth. She didn’t want to hear his lies.

_And just like that,_ she thought as his penis pushed deep inside and broke her hymen, _my first time is lost. Not to someone I love, but someone forcing himself on me._

Her pelvis pushed down against his, burying him inside her. Her legs were shaking, and she could barely breathe. The intrusion was so sudden and unwelcome. It stretched and plugged her in a way she couldn’t describe and had never felt before. In a way, she liked that. Liked that it didn’t feel good; that she could hate him for doing this to her.

“Uck.” The little grimace slipped out as she drew back up, echoing the motion of him pulling out but with her in control. It was supposed to be thrusting over and over. He wasn’t moving, so she’d have to. Ignoring the frantic look in his eyes, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed her hips down again, driving him in. It hurt less for being the second time but the feeling of being plugged was still a nauseating one. She doubted she would ever enjoy it.

_Maybe it would hurt less if I go faster._

Did she want it to hurt less? She wasn’t sure. It helped focus her hatred.

But the faster it was done, the sooner she could stop, and the promise of not having to be anywhere near him was too tempting. She bit her lip and pushed herself back up, then slapped down onto him. The third time was smoother still, his dirty member sliding into her so easily. And why not? He’d stretched her to fit him, the inconsiderate brute. Why be smaller when he could just _force_ her open?

His hands found her hips and pushed away, like he was trying to remove her from him. Weiss’ eyes crossed in anger, vision blurring for a moment. She swayed to the left and almost fell, only just catching herself on his shoulder, digging her nails in as she did. _Maybe I had more to drink than I thought. I’ll be as bad as mother at this rate. _And he was still trying to push her off, now with a hand on her stomach. Weiss batted it away.

“Stop that. I want it over with. I want _you_ over with, but I’ll settle for our wedding night being as short as possible.”

He didn’t reply, of course. She hadn’t taken her hand off his mouth despite his efforts to pull it away. Hearing him talk and lie and pretend like he cared was the last thing she wanted. She rolled her hips, slapping her ass down onto him over and over, finding a pace that must surely have been heaven to him. Less so for her.

_If I make him cum, I’ll be able to stop._

“H – Hurry up,” she panted. “Cum in me. Come on, lose it already. Ejaculate.” Her legs ached as she kept up the punishing pace, trying to milk him dry. The fact he hadn’t already had to be a problem with him. She was doing everything she was supposed to! “Are you impotent?” she spat. “No, you have an erection. Ngh.” She grunted as he hit a spot deep within her. “Not able to g – get off? Typical. Father couldn’t even marry me to a real man!”

For the love of dust, she was already doing all the work for him!

_A reflection of what our married life will be like, no doubt. Him being a lazy lout while I run the SDC, fight Grimm and raise our children. _The latter was a good thing. She wouldn’t want any child of hers becoming a monster like their father.

Her body was hurting too much to keep going like she was – and her head was spinning. Actually spinning; vision fuzzy and mouth tasting of sweat, wine and sick. She rolled over, pulling him up and on top of her. His hands found the pillow on either side of her head. His face met hers, his eyes wide and rimmed with red, like _he_ was the one being hurt so badly. She hooked her heels around him to lock him in place and dug her hands into his back. That freed his mouth, but she cut him off before he could say a word.

“Keep thrusting,” she hissed, “Don’t you dare stop after doing all this to me.”

“Weiss, please,” he whispered. He was still trying to trick her – still sounding like he was on the verge of tears and oh so afraid. “We don’t have to do this. I’ll forgive you. I won’t tell anyone, just please – let’s stop. We can talk this out.”

“Do it!” she yelled, shifting her fingers so that it was her nails pushing into him.

It was a clear threat; one even someone as stupid as he could understand. He began to thrust. Weiss clenched her eyes shut and fought to breathe, panting into his neck as he pushed deep inside her and drew back, scraping his dick along her walls. Her body had begun to react despite her efforts, offering lubricant. There was a tingle inside her as the pain subsided not because it didn’t hurt, but because her body was going numb.

From that, a pleasurable warmth settled in her stomach.

“Faster!” she said, digging her nails in and making him cry out. No huntsman would have made a noise like that. He was as pampered and pathetic as her father and she hated the fact he could make her feel good. “Don’t waste my time. Use me. F – Fuck me.” A Schnee shouldn’t say such words. A Schnee should always be in control. Her father was strict on what a Schnee should be, but right now her father could die for all she cared. “Fuck me properly. Do it! Or are you not even a man?”

“I am!”

“Then do it harder! Useless waste of space. Faster!”

“Y – Yes.” His eyes closed again, tears dripping onto her cheeks. “I’m trying.”

He pumped into her, bringing a fresh wave of nauseating discomfort. She clung to it, riding the pain with satisfaction. But all too soon the pleasure returned. It was her body, she decided. Her body would react as it was meant to, even if she didn’t want it to. He was bringing her to an orgasm. The selfish monster. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. He was making a fool of her.

Her fingers dug in and something gave way. He whimpered and that desperate sound fed her. She dragged her hands down his back, scraping her nails the whole way. He fucked her harder, hammering into her with wet slaps and painful gasps. He didn’t even have a condom. Didn’t he care? Why should he? Just get her pregnant and ruin her life even more than he already had!

“I hate you!” she cried, big, fat tears running down her face as she pushed up and into him, ramming her hips into his. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

A dam burst inside her. Heat rushed through her body from head to toe, coalescing in her core. She arched back and pushed her head down into the pillow, screaming out in release, grief and sorrow. Her body clamped down on his, her vagina, hands and legs all.

He came too, pumping into her with his sickeningly hot seed. It washed into her body and tainted her, ensuring she would never again in her life feel clean. His sperm sought her womb, where it would fight to ruin her life more than it had already been. The worst part was how pleasurable it felt, running through her so hot and wet.

Spent, and with the stamina expected of someone so pathetic, he collapsed into her, hands falling to elbows and face hovering but an inch to the side of her own. His eyes were closed but she could see the wet tracks that ran down his face. What right did he have to look like that when it was her who had suffered so much? Did he think he’d won? Maybe he had. He had her now but having her body and having her soul were two different things.

“I’ll never love you,” she whispered, taking pleasure in the hitch of his breathing and the way his eyes scrunched tighter shut. Exhausted as she was, it fed something dark inside her, as though she was punishing him for the crimes he’d wrought. “No matter how much you try, I’ll hate you until my last breath. Use me. Lie to me. Fuck me if you want, but I will never be yours.”

A broken sound slipped past his lips. His face pushed down into the pillows. He cried.

_Pathetic,_ she thought, head spinning, body numb.

The world spun out from under her as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

It was the shifting of the mattress that drew her to wakefulness. Bright light shone through thin curtains and over her face, driving a spike straight into her skull. She hissed and covered her face with one hand. Her body felt stiff and her mind numb. A headache was drumming away, and her mouth was full of cotton. Or felt it.

What happened? Had she-?

The wedding. Her father. Her husband. It was fuzzy. Muddled. She remembered drinking. Drinking quite a lot, in fact. Then anger. So much anger and rage desperate to be released. She remembered an elevator ride and more anger simmering beneath the surface. Words were exchanged; those she didn’t really recall in any detail. But what came after… that, she remembered.

Weiss clamped a hand over her mouth as sick threatened to come rushing out. It wasn’t just because of the hangover.

_What have I done…?_

He was stood by the door, buckling up his pants and tightening his belt. He had his back to her, shoulders stiff. His bare back had red marks along it, welt dragged into his skin by sharp nails. There was some red spotted around them, evidence that he’d bled. He stooped and picked up a white shirt, hiding them by pulling it on. He turned while doing so, eyes catching hers.

There was a flash of fear.

And then calm.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice even. Flat. Dull. He’d had such a warm voice the day before, she recalled, when he talked excitedly of reforming the company and charitable ventures. “I’ll tell everyone you need time to shower and prepare yourself. I shall await you downstairs.”

“Wait!”

Her throat was sore like her body, but the thick mist in her mind had begun to clear, letting her remember what they’d done the night before. What _she’d_ done. The thick tang of guilt threatened to suffocate her.

He froze, tensing up with one hand on the door handle. The visible shiver that ran down his body was a slap to her face, as was the blood draining from his face as he looked back. He was afraid of her. He wanted to get away from her.

Words danced in the back of her mind; the words she should say, pleas for forgiveness, apologies or more, but the only thing she could think of at that moment was that she didn’t even know the name of the man she’d gotten married to. She hadn’t once listened; hadn’t cared to ask or remember. She didn’t even know if she’d taken his last name or him hers. Didn’t remember the name of the man she’d hurt, just to teach her father a lesson. The man she’d raped for daring to be in the same situation as she.

_“Don’t let a moment of pride ruin what might otherwise be a loving relationship.”_

The door slammed shut. He’d left while she was lost in her guilt and thoughts, naked with the sheets around her waist. Her fingernails, outstretched toward him, were red with dried blood. Her hand trembled and fell. The rest of her was shaking as well, spots of moisture appearing on the sheets over her legs. And just like that, she’d ensured their marriage would be just as loveless as her father’s. If not more.

Weiss sobbed alone in her marital bed.

* * *

“And that’s how it happened,” Weiss said, hunched in the corner of their room with her legs drawn up. “I left to Beacon soon after. He was there to see me off, but we never spoke any more than strictly necessary. We… We embraced, had to – it was expected.” A deep sigh slipped forth. “I felt his shoulders tense when I touched him, like he expected me to hurt him again or tell him how much I hated him. Another twist of the knife.”

Ruby had nothing to say. The younger girl sat with a gobsmacked expression, eyes wide in that kind of panicked way one had when they wanted to run but knew they couldn’t. Of all the things Ruby had expected when she asked Weiss to talk to her, Weiss doubted it was this.

“I… That…” Ruby swallowed and looked around for help. They were alone. “You… Weiss, I…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know what kind of monster I am.”

“No…”

“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact I raped him or that I’m an abusive spouse. Those things I said… I blamed him for everything, Ruby. He was in the same situation as me; he didn’t have a choice ether, but the difference was that he wanted to try and make something out of the mess. I just wanted to see everything crash and burn. All to prove my father wrong.”

It hadn’t mattered at the time how much that hurt her or someone else, so long as her father was proven wrong and her right. She’d bitten off her nose to spite her face, winning the argument but condemning herself to this nightmare. And dragging her husband through the mud with her.

“Do you know his name now?” Ruby asked.

“Yes. Paul Renard. Or Renard-Schnee now. He’s been as good as his word, improving conditions for the faunus and investigating rumours of abuse. The SDC reputation is slowly changing for the better thanks to him.” She drew her knees up to her chest. “He’s done more in half a year than I ever did.”

Ruby smiled weakly. “He sounds like a good person.”

“Yes.” Weiss’ eyes slowly closed as guilt took over. “Yes, he does.”

“You’re not a bad person either.”

“I think what I did to him would suggest otherwise.”

“You were drunk.”

“Does that excuse me? Does that excuse anyone the consequences of their actions? I chose to get drunk, Ruby. I chose to outsource my anger on someone else to make myself feel better. And all because I was too much a coward to aim it at the person who really deserved it.”

“Your father.”

“Yes. And his parents, too. We’re both victims. Or were. Now, he’s the only victim.”

“You feel guilty.”

“Of course I do!” Weiss snapped at Ruby, eyes blazing. “There’s not a moment that goes by where I don’t feel awful. Even worse when someone like Jaune calls me beautiful or Professor Port says I’m a true huntress. I’m not. I’m a rapist. I deserve to be in a cell.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not? Would you want some man to run free after raping your sister?”

“No, but… but this is different. You hate what you did. You were in a bad place.” Ruby knew each of those excuses meant nothing. It was obvious from how desperately she said them, as if she was looking for the one thing that would exonerate her partner.

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Ruby, but this is one thing I won’t accept. It would be spitting on what he went through to just accept that as an accident. I won’t allow it. What I did…” She clenched her teeth. “What I did was inexcusable, and I will _never_ let myself forget it.”

“I…” Ruby touched her arm. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing. But you know it’s wrong and feel bad. That’s better than a lot of people.”

Better didn’t necessarily mean good enough.

“What will you do?” she asked.

Weiss wasn’t sure what the question was supposed to mean. “What will I do? What can I do? I’ll avoid him where I can and try not to get in his way. He’s doing well enough and has reason to both hate and fear me. It will be required that we sometimes share the same space, but I can subtly request separate beds and keep my distance. If he wants, he can take a mistress, someone he can really love and find comfort in.”

“And what about you?”

“I imagine it would be the same,” she said with a little shrug. “Our marriage is a sham, Ruby. It’s a disgusting and empty thing lacking not only love, but trust, respect and any sense of warmth. We can’t even stand to be in the same room, let alone talk-”

“That’s not right.” Ruby crawled over and took Weiss’ hands between hers. Her silver eyes were brimming with unshed tears but angry at the same time. “That’s not right,” she said again. “You can’t just give up on this because one bad thing happened.”

“One bad thing? Ruby, I rap-”

“I know what you did! So do you and so does he.” She took a deep breath. “But have you even tried talking about it? Have you tried apologising?”

“I… I wrote him a letter…”

“In person!”

“No,” she admitted, looking away. It was hard to meet her partner’s eyes. “How can I? What are you supposed to say to someone like that? Sorry I raped you? Sorry I abused you? Sorry I took sick pleasure in hurting you to hide the pain I felt?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. Ruby was so naïve.

“I’m serious,” she said. “He wanted to try and make it work. Maybe it still can. If not, you’d at least be on better terms when you’re together. What you’re doing now… It’s just running away. You’re running away from something you don’t know how to deal with.”

That wasn’t inaccurate. Ruby had a way with words, honing them as sharp as daggers. “What if he refuses to forgive me?” she asked, voice a whisper, vulnerable.

Ruby took her shoulders. “What if he doesn’t? What if he _does_ forgive you?”

There were no words.

“The worst-case scenario is he refuses, and things continue exactly as they are now,” Ruby went on. “That’s no change, but at least you’d have tried to apologise. But if he does listen, if he is willing to try again…” She gripped Weiss’ hands tightly. “You could make this better. You could make it work.”

“How can an apology fix everything I’ve done?” she whispered.

“It can’t. What’s done is done. But you can start to deal with it; both of you.”

It sounded so wonderful. If only it could be as simple as Ruby made it sound. It had been months now since she’d seen him outside of pictures on news reports, even more since the two of them had exchanged words. Her silence must have spoken for her already – the lack of a verbal apology indication that she didn’t care for him. What must he think of her now? How callous and cruel did she come across? She drew her knees up further, wrapping her hands around them and pushing her face into her legs.

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” Ruby laid a hand on her shoulder. “And while I hate to sound anything like your dad, I think you need to hear this…” Ruby cleared her throat. “Don’t let a moment of fear ruin what might otherwise be a loving relationship.”

She tensed. Those words. They’d haunted her. A moment where her pride and anger overcame everything she wanted to be and made her far worse than Jacques Schnee ever had. In doing so, she’d failed herself.

_Am I doing the same again? Have I been letting my fear of his reaction get in the way, just like I did my anger the first time? _

“I’m so pathetic…”

“You’re hurt,” Ruby said. “And scared and guilty. I think those are good things.” She patted Weiss’ shoulders and pushed her own scroll into her hands. “I’m going to leave for half an hour,” she said. “I’ll keep Blake and Yang distracted. Call him. Say what you have to say.”

Weiss took the scroll nervously. Almost dropped it.

“W – What if I can’t? What if I’m too afraid?”

“You won’t be. I believe in you.”

With those final words, Ruby stood and made her way to the door, smiling back one last time with so much faith that Weiss’ heart shattered. The door closed, leaving her trapped inside with Ruby’s scroll. It would be so easy to input a fake number and pretend she’d done it. To lie. Ruby would never know and would almost certainly accept it if she said her husband refused to forgive her. She’d free herself from the responsibility. And in doing so, ruin his reputation unjustly. It was the coward’s answer. It was… more tempting than she wanted to admit.

_“Don’t let a moment of fear ruin what might otherwise be a loving relationship.”_

Weiss’ fingers flew over the buttons. The tone rang.

_“Hello?”_ a gentle voice answered. _“This is Paul Renard. May I ask who’s calling?”_

Paul Renard. Not Renard-Schnee. Weiss’ breath caught in her throat and tears dripped down onto her hands. It shouldn’t have hurt; she’d made it clear he wasn’t a real Schnee or her husband in any way that mattered. He was just honouring that. And yet, it hurt.

“It’s Weiss.”

_“-!”_ Without words, he managed to convey his tension. It was in the sharp intake of breath and the slow exhale. The way that when he spoke again, his voice was carefully calm. Cautious. _“Weiss,”_ he said. _“I did not recognise the number. I apologise. Is there something I can do for you?”_

“I…”

Forgive her. Hate her. Rail against her. Be angry.

“I wanted to talk.” How insulting. He’d wanted to talk as well and she’d had none of it. “There are things I need to say,” she said, hurrying on before her courage could give way. The words tumbled out her mouth like a single snowball down a hill, building into an avalanche. “A – And I’ll understand if you don’t want to hear it, if you slam the scroll down. I’ll accept it and I’ll never talk to you again, but I want to make amends for what I’ve done. And… And if it’s not too late, I’d like a chance to get to know you. Properly.” She closed her eyes and squared her shoulders. “If you’ll let me.”

The silence was deafening. She awaited his refusal, either in blistering words of the cold tone of a scroll hung up. She deserved all of it and more, and nothing he could do would ever hurt as much as the way she stared at her own reflection in the mirror.

_“All right.”_

What? Weiss’ eyes opened slowly, almost expecting a cruel joke. On the screen, the man’s eyes were closed in turn. He was troubled, she could tell. Afraid himself, wary of her and scarred, both physically and emotionally. And yet he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and tried for a tentative smile. It wasn’t quite there but it was something. It was more than she’d dared hope for. A glimmer of hope. Her breath came out in a rush.

_“Let’s talk,”_ he said._ “Properly this time.”_


End file.
